


13 Fucking Text Messages From Pete Wentz

by bishopsknifepatrick



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, bitch you thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 02:50:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishopsknifepatrick/pseuds/bishopsknifepatrick
Summary: Unlocking his phone, he noticed the red number on the Messages app. 13. Who could of sent him thirteen texts in only a couple hours? That doesn't happen. He opened the app and only saw a blue circle next to Pete’s name. Pete usual doesn't do that unless (a) he has a new idea, (b) complaining about an idiot he ran into at the grocery store or (c) he is having an episode and needs Patrick right away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, in advance.
> 
> Hope you like it!

3 hours. Of complete nonsense. Nothing was solved. 

Patrick was fed up. He has spent 3 hours locked in a meeting room with a bunch of idiots. He was done. 

Speed walking to his car, he pressed the unlock button on the keypad, which set off a quick flash of red lights. Once he was there, he set his coffee cup on the roof of the automobile, balancing his books and paper in his left hand and pulling open the car door with his right. He tossed the books and papers to the passenger seat, before coming back out to grab his coffee. Then, putting it in the cup holder, he took a seat and slammed shut the door. 

He sighed frustrated, putting his head against the steering wheel. He took a couple deep breathes before he was a little bit more relaxed. He better check his phone to see if one of the guys texted. He pulled it out of his front pocket and proceeded to hold the power button until the Apple logo appeared. It lit up the screen and remained there for several seconds, before his lock screen showed. It was a selfie of him and his best friends. Unlocking his phone, he noticed the red number on the Messages app. 13. Who could of sent him thirteen texts in only a couple hours? That doesn't happen. He opened the app and only saw a blue circle next to Pete’s name. Pete usual doesn't do that unless (a) he has a new idea, (b) complaining about an idiot he ran into at the grocery store or (c) he is having an episode and needs Patrick right away. 

-

Pete: Patrick, I need your help. Text me when you get this. 2:30pm.

Pete: Please, it's an emergency. 2:39pm

Pete: Patrick. 2:44pm

Pete: please. 2:46pm

Pete: I need you now. 2:47pm

Pete: Patrick, I'm not joking. 2:49pm

Pete: Patrick. 2:52pm

Pete: PATRICK 2:55pm

Pete: PLEASE 2:56pm

Pete: ANSWER 2:57pm

Pete: ME 2:58pm

Pete: patrick 3:02pm

Pete: please hurry 3:04pm

-

Shit.

What happened now? Patrick was thinking it wasn't good. He sounded really desperate. He looked up from his phone at the blank wall in front of him. Was he gonna…? Could he have…? Would he have…? No, no he wouldn't. Pete promised him. Never again.

But. 

But what if he did? 

Oh fuck. 

He held his head in his hands and sat there for a moment. What was he doing? He needed to go now. He picked up his phone right away, typed ‘i’ll be right there’ and threw his phone to his side. With shaking hands, he picked up his keys that were set in his lap and frantically tried to jam them into the ignition. It took him a few tries, but he got it. He turned it forward, pulled down the gear shift and backed out of the parking space his vehicle was occupying. He was in a parking structure, she had to go down the rows and search for the exits to the lower levels. Now, because Patrick was so lucky, he got to park on the fifth level. Going down each level with slight speed, but not too much, he had to get over to the side avoiding other cars. For what felt like an hour, he finally reached the ground level and realized he had to pay for his spot. 

Like this situation couldn't get any worse. 

He reached for his wallet, grabbing a $5 dollar bill, and inserting it into the machine. The light flashed green and the gate went up. Driving through, he reached the street, pulling out quickly to avoid traffic. 

The drive to Pete’s house was pretty clear. Traffic wasn't as bad as it would be in the next hour or so. 

Patrick swerved into Pete’s driveway, with the car barely stopping before hopping out and running to the door. He knocked on the door heavily. 

No response. 

Nononononono.

He reached for the doorknob. He twisted and surprisingly, it was unlocked. He ran through the house calling Pete’s name. 

“Patrick?”

“Pete?”

“I'm in the laundry room,” Pete yelled. 

Patrick headed in that direction as he had memorized the entire layout of Pete’s house. 

The door was wide open. He slowed down as he approached it, almost scared of what he might see, but as soon as he got there he could hear water sloshing at his feet. 

“Pete?” Patrick peered through the doorway. In the corner, on top of the washer, that was side by side to the dryer, was the small man perched up there, with his arms wrapped around his legs. 

“Oh my god, I thought you’d never come.” 

“What happened?”

“Well, I think a pipe burst, as you can see. I tried to clean it up, but as you can see again, it didn't work. And now I've been stuck up here for about an hour. I texted you because I didn't know what to do.”

Patrick’s head hung, “Peteeee, I thought something bad was happening.”

“And this isn't bad? Do you realize how scared I got when the towels weren’t working?”

“No, I mean...nevermind,” he decided maybe it would be best for Pete not to hear his initial reaction to the series of texts. 

“Get over here,” Pete said. 

Patrick made his way over there by using the water soaked towels as his stepping stones towards him. Eventually, he reached the dryer, and hoisted himself up onto it. He looked at Pete, “So, what are we going to do now?”

“Hmm...I don't know,” Pete said, leaning over and resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder.


End file.
